


Madrid Zombie

by BrokenTodd



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Apocalypse, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Blood, Jason-Centric, M/M, NO CAPES, Survival, i will add more tags, madrid, maybe some of the characters won't appear idk maybe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-18
Updated: 2018-03-18
Packaged: 2019-04-04 06:52:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14014611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrokenTodd/pseuds/BrokenTodd
Summary: Can you survive in a Madrid infested with zombies?The infection has spread without control, the zombies multiply, Madrid dies slowly, what are you going to do?





	1. Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This story is actually a game and in Spanish, so I decided to translate it so if you see any errors please tell me.
> 
> Also, this story is based completely in Jason and his journey, his relationship with Dick takes time because well, it's the apocalypse and they don't have time for love, they have to survive, but eventually it happens.

"How the graves deliver their dead and how the horrific night air grows with shrieks!" «Varney the Vampire» (1845)

 

A breeze meanders through the abandoned neighborhoods of Madrid and then dies against your window. Wake up in darkness and silence. Thoughts come to your mind as ghosts of past lives and remind you where you are.

Your pupils dance investigating the room that slowly begins to show you its bones.

The cold surface of the soil reassures you. You turn your neck from one side to the other and you cannot distinguish anything or anyone. You begin moving your hands and feet while your blood flows through your fingers.

The objects in the room are transformed into silhouettes, and your eyes are fixed on the entrance door, where a wooden wardrobe continues to block access. Satisfied, you stand up. After taking a step, you contemplate the table where the notebook awaits you. The table seems to speak through the wood. Yesterday you did not hear it. You stayed there while your gaze looked for other things.

Today is _different._

When you take the first step the parquet creaks under your foot. You paralyze and prick your ears...

The seconds go by accompanied by a distinct sound: That is your breathing...

However, this is not the first time it happens. You have to achieve a way to silence the damn parquet. Making sure once again that nobody has heard you, you continue your way to the table.

You sit in the chair and you frown when you feel the metal backseat. Then you take the lighter and light a candle. The area lights up immediately to the rhythm of the flame. Something inside you burns with desire to express yourself, to tell everything.

You think you hear a car in the distance but the noise disappears so fast that it does not give you the chance to think about it.

You stretch your hand on the table and take the only pen you have left. The notebook seems to demand you to give explanations. Yesterday you were hours in front of the devilish object; today, however, the battle seems to settle in your favor.

After sighing, you write.

 

My name is _Jason Todd_. The clock on my wrist warns me it is 04:13 in the morning. Electricity has become, ironically, a luxury of the past.

Where to start?...

Before Madrid became a cloud of putrefaction and screaming, I spent most of my time at university. Studying, studying, that's the only way to succeed in the world. Undergraduate studies, masters, postgraduate courses...

Before the lights of the city were extinguished I was about to get my medical degree. At that time I lived in a flat in the southeast of Madrid with my partner Roy Harper. As I write and I think of you, Roy, some turbines roar in the sky... The deluded ones still believe that they can retake the city. Why, Roy, for what?

Another explosion, too close. The same plaster dust I breathe now surrounds these words. And for what? The whole city would have to be bombed.

I feel like Anna Frank; I feel like her but without her desire to _live_.

If only you were here, the man of my life by my side... Talk to Kitty? You and your ideas! Very good... What, Kitty? Where is Roy now? You are curious! I will tell you.

But I better start from the beginning. The day in which Madrid went to hell. I remember I was traveling on the subway and...


	2. Trip on the subway

_A while ago..._  
  
  
  
The murmurs of the passengers and the movement of the train are closing your eyes.  You decide to sleep a little while leaning against the door until a smell awakens your sense of smell.

Frowning your nose, you look and smell around you. A man in front of you puts a handkerchief to his mouth while coughing. You get dizzy. The train continues advancing, «Next stop... » the recording announces through the speakers. The stench is already in your lungs. On your left, a vagabond fights with a woman. You keep your gaze in that direction and. That plague can only come from the beggar... You hear another cough.

Turning your neck and you discover a man who is occupying two of the three seats, he takes the collar of his shirt to his mouth.  Drops of sweat run down his forehead and a bag of chips and Coca-Cola rocks at his feet. Concerned with the man you debate in going to him or not, in the end, you stay in your place.  
  
You are closing your eyes once more when you hear a guttural sound to your right. The obese man vomited painting a yellowish puddle on the floor. A woman - splattered by the liquid- insults him with her hands in the air and all kinds of adjectives in her mouth.  
  
«Next stop - announces the synthetic voice - Marqués de Vadillo». The doors open and let the air fill your lungs as you leave the train with alacrity.  
  
  
  
  
  
_On your way to work_

  
  
  
  
Climbing the stairs two steps at a time to leave the metro facilities behind as soon as possible. The morning air refreshes your senses and you walk the two streets that separate the station from your office quickly.  
  
“Good morning” Your boss's greeting is barely audible.  
  
“Good morning, Gonzalo. How are you? You look tired.”  
  
“I am” He replies, leafing through some papers on his desk. “Martin had to come today in the morning to open the office but, as you see, he is not here.”  
  
“Is he sick?”  
  
“I suppose. The Human Management client had an appointment with him today at 8:00, but he called me at 8:30 saying that there was no one in the office. I called him right away, but he did not answer me on the cell phone or the landline.” Gonzalo pauses briefly as he looks into your eyes. “Do you know anything?”  
  
“No, I don't know anything, sorry.”  
  
“Well, it's nine and... 5 minutes, I still have not been able to communicate with him.”  
  
The rest of the day goes by routinely. A few minutes before closing Gonzalo approaches your desk, his eyes seek yours.

“Something's wrong. Martin is clueless but has never been absent from work. I'm going to his house” He says as he grabs his coat and the keys clink inside. “Do me the favor of calling him before closing the office...  let's see if you're lucky.”

  
“Okay, if I’m able to communicate with him I'll let you know. Surely it's nothing.”  
  
Your boss turns around and, before leaving the office he gives you a look that seems to predict the opposite.  
  
The look of your boss remains in your mind, like the flame of a candle that you have stopped observing. Alone and a little more nervous, you take the phone and touch the name "Martin" with the tip of your finger. The usual tone starts ringing but is cut off suddenly by a silence, and your mobile starts to count the duration of the call:  
  
  
  
**0:00, 0:01, 0:02...**  
  
  
  
You seem to distinguish something moving on the other side of the line... touching the microphone.  
  
Swallow and sharpening your ear. The sound changes again. You hear something watery, a constant up and down... a hiss, crunch, and grunt. And everything is suddenly transformed into a roar.  

Steps.  Shouting.  More roars.  
  
  
  
**END OF CALL**  
  
  
  
  
  
_On your way home._

  
  
  
  
The road to the metro seems to stretch under your feet. A breath of frosty air sneaks through your clothes and dies as fast as it was born. You decide to lighten the step.  
  
Once on the platform, the train slows down in front of you until it chirps and stops. You climb to the third car, reviving the call with Martin when your phone starts vibrating:  
  
  
**Roy**  
  
  
  
“Hello, honey, how was your day?”He asks you.  
  
“Martin has disappeared.”  
  
“What do you mean by he disappeared?  Whats  go... ing... can... hear?”  
  
“Hello? Roy?” You look at the screen of the mobile and realize you have no signal.  
  
You put away the phone and raise your head just in time to recognize a figure disappears in the next car. His silhouette has vanished behind the door that divides both wagons.  
  
The other wagon snakes with its own life in front of you from left to right and from top to bottom. You try locating the figure.  Something foreign to the train moves quickly in that car. The train moves full of people. You swing from one side to the other and cannot focus your eyes. You bend your head. You meet the face of a woman. She puts her hand to her mouth and looks at the ground.

A tingle runs through every nerve in your body. Your legs become heavy. Even so, you take a step forward. The woman opens her eyes more and more and the rest of the passengers around her begin to follow her gaze. Curiosity urges you to find out what is happening and, without even noticing, you take another step forward... there is that tickling again.  
  
You stop, inhale and decide to rub your sweaty hands. You watch the scene in the other car.  The woman uncovers her mouth. At that moment the lights of the train blink once...  And again...  
  
Suddenly the lights of the train are extinguished.  
  
Phosphorescent patches immediately light up, at the same time that a blow blows to pieces the glass of the door that separates both cars. Fragments of glass fall to the floor and you hear them creak under different shoes. At that moment the train accelerates furiously, and you get fired in the opposite direction. You crash against the door.  
  
A scream echoes in the car. The train continues to accelerate. The tiny lights in the tunnel appear and disappear in less than a second consumed by the speed.  
  
Suddenly, the white light of the platform floods the vehicle and it brakes with a metallic moan. You end up losing your balance and hit your face against someone's back. You blink again and again. The doors open, and a soldier enters the train pointing his assault rifle in the direction of the door with the shattered glass. More soldiers enter the vehicle in the middle of the shouting, and the movement of the passengers takes you towards the platform like cattle.  
  
“Exit the stairs to my right!” A uniformed man shouts above the rest “Leave the metro right now!”  
  
Steps like hammer blows echo in all directions.  You look back to check that the length of the train is covered by soldiers, their green uniforms hide the chassis of the vehicle.  Among the multitudes of voices, you feel observed... Remembering the figure, remembering the woman. Were they both the same person?  
  
“Gentleman, leave the platform right now” The words of a soldier drag you to the present again.  
  
You have been watching the train, losing track of time. The military man warns you again. You turn around and go obediently towards the stairs. You start to climb and you see the last the passenger - a man in jeans and a Black Jersey - climbs the last step and turns to the left. The stairs are deserted. You lighten the pace while the voices of the military at your back and the steps of the passengers later give way to silence.  
As if it were a synchronized dance, the moment you reach the next floor «Black Jersey» turns right and disappears behind the corner that connects to the escalators about 40 meters from your location.  
  
Suddenly you hear footsteps behind you. You prick your ear: the sounds are spaced, slow, heavy. You can no longer hear the passengers or the military.  
  
Your brain — processing information at breakneck speed — tells you "Find out who goes up the stairs. "  
  
The footsteps approach. You turn around but you can not make out anything, the light on your head does not offer any shade. Silence.  The sound disappears, and you stare at the corner without getting to see the stairs. You hold your breath with your eyes on that corner.  
  
Your mind keeps suggesting ideas...  "I'm not afraid."  
  
With clenched fists, you repress the bodily sensations that arise in you like a waterfall and you stay rigid.  
  
The mystery vanishes when the figure of a soldier — the one who had told you to leave the platform — appears at the bottom of the stairs. His gaze rests on you.  
  
“And the rest of the passengers?” He asks after sweeping the sweat off his forehead.  
  
Arming yourself with courage you ask him:  
  
“What's going on here?”  
  
But he ignores what you have said and takes a step closer to you.  
  
“I'm going coming up with you and make sure everyone has evacuated the facilities” He says, ignoring your reaction.  
  
“You alone?” You ask, looking over his shoulder.

“Yes.”  
  
“Something has happened in the car where the glass exploded, right?”  
  
“Follow me, please.”  
  
The soldier goes to the escalators. His boots hit the ground at the same time that his rifle rubs his uniform composing a monotonous symphony. The man soon surpasses you by a few steps, and you are forced to equate the speed.  
  
In a matter of seconds, you are climbing the stairs and glimpsing the lights of the Madrid night. You cross the lathes of the entrance, and you come to the surface.  
  
Where the stairs turn into a sidewalk you once again find «Black Jersey».  
  
“Very well”The soldier breaks the silence. “Continue until the exit, please.”  
  
You nod and start up the stairs while the soldier stays behind blocking the entrance to the subway. The silhouette of «Black Jersey» captures the reflection of a traffic light and changes color: green, amber, red... The man looks in the opposite direction to you, motionless. You climb the first step. The dry sound of the sole of your shoe against the concrete staircase seems to wake him up.  
  
He slowly turns while looking at his hands.  Now it is you who have remained motionless watching an inflamed and blackened wound in his right hand, while the man contemplates his extended fingers with equal interest. The passenger raises his head a little then and fixes his eyes on you... they are empty. There are no pupils, no cornea or iris... the white sclerotic covers the whole of his eyes. Black Jersey lets out an inhuman roar and begins to descend the stairs.  
  
The movement takes you by surprise and before you can react, Black Jersey is already on you. The man extends his arms holding you by the shoulders. He opens his jaw like a shark and shows his blackened teeth. You react by placing your hands on your attacker's chest and try to push him away while you feel how your feet begin to try to maintain the balance.  
  
“Break up, now!” The soldier roars.  
  
The man exerts more and more force at the same time that he utters snapped in the air.  With your feet on different steps, you feel you are about to lose your balance.  
  
“Last warning!”  
  
The pressure on your shoulders is unbearable.  His face is centimeters from yours. A pungent smell sneaks up your nose.  
  
A sound explodes around you and dies instantly. A white glow blinds you for a second followed by a sharp beep in your ears. Then you turn around to find Black Jersey on the floor next to the front door.  
  
The man has fallen down the stairs and lies inches from the soldier. His legs have been dislocated at a grotesque angle. The tibia has pierced the skin of his right shin.  
  
The subject begins to moan and roar once more. Apparently, he has lost control of his neck because in his face only those eyes move... he knows you're still there.  
  
The creature has obliterated in an instant everything you had learned about the human body.  
  
“We have one in the entrance” The military man communicates through the microphone in his helmet.  
  
“A what?” You question him agitated.  
  
“Please, go back to your home” He says without stopping pointing the man on the floor.  
  
“Are not you going to call an ambulance?” You scream.  
  
You see his lips moving, but you can not hear the sound of his voice. The man crawls supporting the weight of his body on his elbows. The soldier does not take his eyes off him.  
  
“Go home!” His voice is magnified on the stairs and you recover your auditory sense.

  
Without thinking twice, you  _finally_  leave the subway.


End file.
